Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Resolutions I

When I was going through my 2-year bout with holy heck-I am so sad-anxious-who am I?-what does this all mean?-why can’t I fit?-is my mind going?-better question where is my hair going?-is this worth the trouble?-what the heck is happening to me?*, it was so busy in my head that I stopped everything else. I was motionless and no matter what I tried, I could not move forward.

About a year ago I came back to the land of the functioning; it hasn’t been fully until recently. 
I have taken most of this last year to heal. Restore myself, reconcile to my people, and rejoin the commotion of everyday life.
I don’t have it all figured out. I am still working on it. And that’s okay.
When you panic, it’s your body telling you to slow down and resolve whatever needs resolving.
My life had to come to a complete stop for me to get the message and it turns out there were some things in my life that needed resolution. Taking a Xanax is easy, dealing with shit and holding it together is not. 
It has taken time. 
There has been a lot of gathering, sorting, recognizing, understanding, and finally, removal of shit.
Everyday chores and routines were too difficult to deal with so I just didn’t. Everything and everyone was overwhelming.
I have a few close girlfriends who are successful in their careers, have happy social lives, nice houses, and raising kids on top of that.  When I would visit them during this time I couldn’t help but think to myself, how can someone possibly have the energy for a life like theirs? How is your countertop so clean all the time? You grocery shop, cook dinner, put the mail away, and hang out with your kids? You host brunches on the weekend? You go to the mall, get your hair done, and vacuum all in the same day? How do you do this? Was there a grownup class I missed? How do you find the energy?
How do you do this?
I felt incompetent.
My girlfriends are amazing.
I had just failed to recognize that they were living life.
I was not. 
When we were getting ready to move to the new place, I prepared to move into a new head space. The steps forward have been gradual, but I am moving. That is the important part.
I go to work every day. I take care of the dog. I feed the fish. I make the bed. I do the dishes. I clean.  I pay bills. I tell Bobaloo not to fall asleep on the couch. I have even started helping with dinner on occasion. These things are very small but they make my life.
Almost a year later, I am very proud of this life.

*Sorry to get so technical.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Friday was uneventful.  Bobaloo and I met up with a friend for a bit at happy hour.  Another snowstorm came in so we stuck close to home.
We probably got about 10 inches of snow so we decided to stay home and kick it at the pad.  Bobaloo made delicious food and I watched movies all day.  Plus, I stayed awake past the SNL monologue which is quite a feat for me!
Mmm... cheese.


Bobaloo and I went on the hunt for some vinyl at a couple of thrift stores, pretty slim pickings.  I think when people start spring cleaning there will be a better selection.  We did pick up an Earth Wind & Fire and a Bill Cosby Album for a total of $1.05.  Later, we headed to a bar that has a wonderful patio with fire pits for a couple of beers.  Next week they are hosting the annual deviled egg competition.
I am ready for the weather to get warmer, the cold and snow is messing with my disposition.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

This and That

I recently learned how chickens lay eggs without needing a rooster.  This was the most confusing, yet informative tidbit of widely known knowledge I have received in a while.
I found my iPhone intact in the yard right after I hit up AT&T for a cheapie replacement.  I dropped the phone when I was chasing after the dog.  This is my favorite picture on the camera roll:
That’s my bro, his gal, and I rocking out in my parent's living room.  Bro is consistently awesome when choosing tunes, whether it be at home or on a jukebox.  It’s a great quality to have and I love him for it.  When he was born I wanted to name him Elvis, I wonder if his life trajectory would have been different had my parents agreed.
Speaking of the trip back to the frozen North, I was nicely surprised when I ordered a bloody mary and it came with a snit.  Remember that whole deal?
I enjoy a good tourist trap. And gift shop.  Ooh, I am a sucker for a good gift shop.  I am trying to think of some new ones to visit over the summer.  I desperately want to make it to Dollywood one of these days.
I recently read an article on (which I can’t find now) about simply adding the word meditation to the end of your frustration.  Frustrated in line at the grocery store?  Take a deep breath and practice your grocery line meditation.  Frustrated and stuck in traffic?  Take a deep breath and practice your traffic meditation.  Weirdly, it works.  Bobaloo and I have been having fun with it.  At this very moment I am practicing my I-forgot-my-breakfast-and-could-eat-the-north-side-of-a-horse-going-south meditation.

Monday, March 18, 2013


Friday night Bobaloo and I went to a birthday party for his buddy.  I sort of learned the fundamentals of beer pong because believe it or not, I have never played.  Flip Cup on the other hand?  Bring it.  The party was fun but we didn’t stay very long because we wanted to avoid the fuzz during St. Patrick’s Day weekend.
I had big plans for Saturday, big productive plans.  Shortly after I awoke though, I found out that season 8 of Weeds was on Netflix.  Bobaloo made some delicious breakfast and we proceeded to watch all thirteen episodes only stopping for Chinese food at lunch time.  When the finale was over we decided it was time to leave the house.  By the way?  Finales always suck and then my life feels like a waste because I could have invested all the season-watching hours into something else, like, reading Anna Karenina or learning French.  Anyways, we walked down to the bar around seven and hung out for a little bit.  At one point in the evening some chick tried to steal my wallet right out of my purse that was hanging on my chair.  The whole situation was weird but I have all of my stuff. 
Yesterday was another chill afternoon.  I had a Chipotle lunch and watched Little Miss Sunshine, which is a favorite of mine.  I am really into and needed to buy some postcards to send out.  I buy my postcards up on Lookout Mountain because they have the best selection and sell cards 5 for $1.50.  Lookout Mountain is a nearby tourist trap where Buffalo Bill is allegedly buried.*  So, we packed the dog and headed to get some postcards.  After, I had a quiet night to end a quiet weekend.  It was very nice.  I am normally really into St. Patty’s but this year, I passed.

*Lookout Mountain is cool and has great views of the Continental Divide; the actual grave (above) is whelming at best.  True story.  I took my parents up here a few years ago and there were two kids looking at the coins people had thrown on the grave for good luck.  Their heads were between the bars where the arrow is pointing, the kids were probably 8 and 10.  After a  couple of minutes checking out the coins, the little girl could not get her head out of the fence and started freaking out.  Before running to her rescue, her mom yells to dad, "Honey, quick!  Get the camera!"  After pictures were taken, they lifted her out and all was good.  I have never laughed so hard in my entire life.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Kiss Me, I'm a Good Skier


If I could have one comedy montage from my brain on videotape, this is would what it would look like:

I am not a coordinated or graceful person.  I have no agility or speed either.  I am clumsy. 
I am a great walker though.  I have that down pat.
My job involves snow so when I tell people where I work the first question I get asked is whether I ski or snowboard.
Begin the reel.  Here is the first of many attempts at athleticism...
Growing up, my family took yearly ski trips to Michigan with family friends.  I was a fearful five year old and not excited about strapping two skis on and plummeting down a hill.  Pops however, was full of enthusiasm and exuberance that would soon turn to frustration.  God love him for having faith that someday I would grow out of my awkward stage.   We are still waiting.
With some fuss I got my boots and skis on and practiced on the little hill by the chalet.  I’d walk up the little hill and snowplow my little self down.  Pizza.  French fry.  Pizza.  French Fry.  Sounds fun, right?  I remember a lot of yelling and crying involved during practice.  It was unfair, my brothers took to the hill like Snoopy, suavely traversing the snowy terrain with little effort.  Pops was at a loss on why these skills were harder for me; I chalk it up to being a late bloomer.
After we both had enough zigzagging, Pops brought me to the bottom of the hill to prep me for my first chairlift ride.  The chairlift was an old two-seater that went to the top of the bunny hill.  Pops went through the instructions over and over until I committed them to memory.  Scoot up, grab the pole, sit down, bar down, tips up.  He’d be right next to me the whole time.
And I did it!  We were riding high and I felt a rush of adrenaline and accomplishment.  The views of the trees were spectacular the skiers were whooshing below, this was incredible!
About half way up the ride, Pops started prepping on how the unloading was going to go.  He assured me it was a lot easier than getting on.  I am not sure what exactly happened, but sometime between his instructions and the unloading zone I completely psyched myself out. 
My dad left the chairlift and I did not.
I kept going until the lift was stopped.  I took one look at my dad swearing under his breath and started to bawl.  I had been defeated and humiliated by a chairlift.
My saving grace was the liftie, a sweet old man who came out with a ladder and lifted me down gently.  To this day, I remember his kind smile and the safety of his arms.  Once back to the ground he gave me a Kleenex, a Hershey Kiss, and a button that said Kiss me, I’m a good skier.  The world was right again.
Going downhill was a piece of cake.  After the one and only run, Pops brought me back to the chalet and I am guessing went to have a few cocktails to take the edge off of our bonding experience.  It was a long afternoon and at the end of it, all was forgiven.
The next day Pops signed me up for ski school.  Best forty bucks he ever spent.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Friday was the day that would not end at work.  I was very happy when 4:30 rolled around and I was able to happy hour with Bobaloo and my friend Sam.  Later, we all went back to our place to do some grilling, beer drinking, and music listening.  We moved into a house recently, it's great to have more space to have folks over.  I also started reading Sarah Silverman's The Bedwetter, so far so good.
Nik & Bobaloo at the new pad
Oy vey.  This is where the weekend got a little out of hand!  We got our tickets for Widespread Panic at Red Rocks and decided to celebrate with bloody marys (which were delicious, by the way).  The snow blew in and we made a decision to just hang at home.  It turns out some of our friends were bored too so they came over for some good old fashioned day drinking.  Snowladies were made, hotdish was eaten, laughs were had, and goofy songs were written.  I capped the night off by losing my iPhone during a liquor store trip which is why there aren't a whole lot of pics in this post.  Genius.  By the way, if you haven't had tatertot hotdish yet this winter I highly recommend this stick-to-the ribs goodness. Here's one recipe, though you can pretty much use up whatever is in your cupboard.
I woke up, had some coffee, and shook the cobwebs so we could head up to Nederland for Frozen Dead Guy Days.  FDGD is an awesome festival that celebrates Grandpa who is frozen in a Tuff Shed.  Bobaloo, a friend, and I made the trek and enjoyed some good music, had some beers, and witnessed the goofiness.  By the time we got home, I was pretty well beat so I capped the weekend off with some frozen pizza and Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
You're still here? It's over. Go home. Go.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Painting Posse

I am not a very fancy gal.  I own a lot of hats.  I wear many hats, only in the physical sense though, not in the turn of phrase sense.  Getting gussied up in the morning is my least favorite thing to do.  If I leave the house wearing matching tops and bottoms I consider it a triumph.  Socks don’t count.  I let go of trying to match my socks up a couple of years ago.  It’s been a beneficial experience.  No one really checks for matching socks anyway.  Sock it to me.

I started volunteering at a senior living home in December.  I told the volunteer coordinator I was up to help wherever she needed it, juice cart duties, organizing the library, etc.  She had something else in mind though.  She emailed me with my post after I passed my TB test, I was going to hang out on Saturday mornings once in a while and paint fingernails.
This was slightly unsettling for a few reasons.  One, I have never painted someone else’s nails before.  Two, physical nearness to strangers has never really been my thing.  Three, I am not super great at small talk.  I was nervous as my first Saturday approached.
When I arrived the first Saturday I only had one customer.  She was delightful and didn’t seem to be too bothered with me coloring outside of the lines a little bit.  Conversation came easy and I was eager to come back the next time.  When that day came, I had a half a dozen women waiting for me when I arrived.  It was cute because some of them thought I was practicing for beauty school. 
My posse has grown to about eight regulars who I am excited to see.  I am much more confident in my painting skills and am happy to suggest colors that will match outfits they have planned out for the week.  They make conversation with each other while they’re waiting for paint or drying.   It’s nice for me because I can do nails and listen to the conversations.   The experience has been an absolute pleasure from the get go and I am happy I let myself be open to it so I could meet these women.

Monday, March 4, 2013

I tried my hand at cooking (with close supervision) fondue.  It turned out great and I have fulfilled my cheese-eating quota for about six months.  Bobaloo put on some John Denver and we kicked 70s at the pad.
Bobaloo and I headed up to Boulder to check out the National Center for Atmospheric Research which is a really fancy way to say we played with clouds.  Later we hit up a couple of bars and hung out with friends.

We enjoyed the gorgeous day and hiked up North Table Mountain.  Afterwards, we enjoyed beverages on a patio.